


Out of Place

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: Atypical Omegaverse [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, F/M, Mommy Issues, Sara is an alpha, magical secret futanari penis, michele is an omega, their mom comes home, they get stuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: Sara pulls down her panties as she fingers Michele. It’s a little unfair. Her body’s changing too, but so far it’s been all about her brother. Typical. She works her panties down around her hips and then pushes back the plaid fabric of her skirt. Her cock is different from Michele’s: longer and thicker. Around the base, the skin is flared outward already. The sight makes her giggle. She’s going to have so much fun teasing all the larger alpha males at school.





	Out of Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoodleLeeDoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleLeeDoo/gifts).



Something wasn’t right; Sara could tell that morning. Mickey didn’t argue with her about using up all of the hot water in the shower, even though she shampooed and conditioned her hair, which always took a long time. Mickey didn’t say anything even when she cracked open the last egg over the frying pan, and Michele had to eat cold cereal. Usually he’d say something. Michele hates the taste of milk, and he hates the soy milk mother buys for them even more. He never eats cereal.

It didn’t matter much, because Mickey took no more than three bites of his breakfast. It’s strange because he’s always wolfing down his breakfast. He’s always picking at hers, and demanding more. Really annoying. One time when they were young, Sara stabbed him in the hand with a fork and mom had to take him to urgent care. But it’s not like he needed stitches or anything.

Sara could feel that something was off when they took the train to get to school. They usually leaned up against one another on the crowded subway to avoid others. This morning, Michele stands back against the wall with his arms crossed across his chest. Normally he’d let her stand close to him with his arms draped around her so that if anyone else touched her, there’d be a barrier between her and them.

Sara can feel the pull of eyes upon them as the train goes east bound and fills with other people on their morning commute. Today, they aren’t looking at her skirt that barely meets dress code. They aren’t looking at her blouse unbuttoned too low. They aren’t looking at her cotton candy colored lip gloss, and it makes her angry but not in the way that she’d expect.

They’re looking at Mickey.

“What’s wrong?” She feels like she’s yelling over the sound of normal chatter on the train. She feels like every eye turns to them and looks at them and them alone, but she has to know.

“Nothing Sara,” he insists. “Don’t coddle me. It’s my job to look after you.” He rocks up on his toes, and the train plunges into a tunnel. It lurches to a stop at the next station, and the motion jerks him forward sending his body careening into hers. With his body on hers, she smells it.  

They typically smell just alike. The cinnamon honey shampoo that Mama buys, and the discount detergent Sara dumps into the washing machine along with their unsorted clothes. Now, he smells different. All the normal components of his scent are still there, it’s just that everything is stronger. It makes her want to bury his face into his pullover.

But Michele rights himself with the bar, and offers her a hand upward.

Something isn’t right.

She and Michele are in P.E. class when Franz Rosso body checks Michele on the soccer field. Sara can see it from the corner of her eye while Ms. Moretti has the girls jog past to do warm ups. Despite getting great scores in junior competitions, Sara’s always a hair’s breath away from failing P.E. She doesn’t like to exert herself, especially when she knows that she’s going to have to do all sorts of strength conditioning, cardio, and on-ice stuff as soon as she’s out of school.

Sara’s vision tunnels white hot, and she breaks away from the pack of miserable jogging girls. She launches into the soccer game, throws all of her weight onto him, even though she knows he presented as an alpha last year when they were in year eight.

Sara bounces off of him like Michele’s glow in the dark super ball against the exposed cinderblock wall in their apartment. It doesn’t stop her. She gets up immediately.

Michele yells, “Sara what the fuck?” but it doesn’t stop her. She snarls at Rosso, and lunges at him once again.

It’s Michele, not the teachers that pull her off. “A man isn’t supposed to have his sister jump in damn it!” but it all sounds like he’s holding her head under water.

* * *

“Something isn’t right,” Mr. DeLuca the head master gets up, walks around the desk, and looks down at her. He stinks like curdled milk, and he looks at her over gold rimmed glasses with a frown that makes her skin crawl. She feels like crying out, but Mickey isn’t here to save her. “Usually it’s Michelle in here for beating up boys that talk to you.”

Sara’s told to go wait out in the hallway while mama comes to get her. She’s gonna get yelled at because Mama had to take off of work. She doesn’t understand why she can’t just go home, but apparently “suspended,” is different from just going home at the end of the day.

Sara picks the nail polish off of her nails. She kicks her Mary Jane shoes against the walls until the secretary pokes her head out of the office and tells her, “stop it Crispino.”

So, she throws in a piece of bubble gum and starts chewing big pink bubbles, until she catches scent of something that’s sweeter than candy. In an instant, she knows its Mickey. She leave her spot, and races too him. “Mickey,” and this time Michele doesn’t shrink away from her touch. He doesn’t scream, “what the fuck?”  He sinks into her touch, and she burrows her face into the crook of his neck.

“Mickey,” she repeats with her mouth on his skin. “What’re you in for?” But in the back of her mind she already kind of knows. Sure, she skipped out on health class all last semester to go to the arcade with Mickey before practice, but she isn’t stupid. “You didn’t get into a fight did you?” It’d be just like him, to go after Rosso even though she started it.

“Passed out after you left. I’m fine though.” He insists. “Nurse said I’m presenting,” his face is sullen and defeated. She wonders why. She always knew he’d make a good alpha.

“At least we won’t get bitched at by mom alone,” she supplies. Something isn’t right. Usually it’s Mickey that’s doing his best to comfort her, even when they both know that they’re screwed.

* * *

Mama doesn’t say a word about her fight on the way home. Mama takes Mickey into the bed she’s shared with her brother for years. Mama grabs her pillows and blankets, and dumps them onto her bed own bed. “Mama,” her voice is timid. The way that Mama huffs and puffs around the apartment, her long face gaunt and displeased, she doesn’t want to upset her more. “Why are you taking my things out of my room?”

“You can’t share a room with Michele anymore.”

“What!?” anxiety tugs at her chest in the same way that it did when Rosso touched Mickey. “No way! Why?” Sure, it would be complicated if Michele was an alpha and she were an omega…and everything suggested she would be…But she hadn’t presented yet. What difference did it make? “Mickey and I need each other!”

Mama doesn’t say a word. She snaps up her work badge from the table, along with her purse. She marches over to Sara, and she sees nothing in her expression. It’s worse than if she were angry.

By now, Sara’s an expert at dodging Mama. She’s been doing it for years. She’s taller, and she’s stronger, and she’s faster, but this time it takes her by surprise. She can see the swoop of her hand in the corner of her eye for a fraction of a second before it makes contact with her cheek.

Sara braces herself in the doorframe from the recoil. The onset of the sting is delayed. It only hurts after she’s moved her hand to cup her cheek. She can hear Michele say her name from the other side of the door, but she’s still too shocked to actually do anything about it.

Sara snarls at Mama, like that will actually do something to change her mind.

“Keep away from Michele tonight. Understand?”

* * *

 

Mama goes back to work, and in an instant Sara’s wedged herself back into the door frame.

Mama’s got the door locked from inside. First, she jiggles the handle, and then she tries to throw her weight against it like in the movies. She doesn’t particularly think it’s going to work, but her body tells her to do it anyway. “Mickey open up.”

“I can’t,” Michele says from inside. “I can’t Sara.” Michele sounds like he’s in pain, and that makes her vision tunnel. Make her feel week in the knees. It grabs her by the gut and twists, and is this how Mickey feels whenever she cries out for him at the rink?

“What do you mean you can’t? I’m your sister Mickey.” Her voice is firm, and confidant in a way that it usually is not. Normally, when she tries to get what she wants from him, her voice waivers, it cracks, tears form in her eyes, and he has no choice but to act.

It isn’t like that now.

Sara can hear the soft shuffling sound of footsteps. He’s wearing his slippers. The big puffy ones that look like dragons she got him for Christmas.

The thin wooden door creaks within the frame, and she can smell his scent even stronger now. It makes a hot blush spread across her cheeks. It makes her toes curl up in her socks. It makes her splay her palm across the door and want more, more, more. He’s either leaning up against the door with his back to it, or jammed in the door frame, or has his own hands against the hard wood. He’s so close, but he’s never felt further away.

“I’m an omega Sara.”

It must be hard for him, thinking it was going to go one way, and it ends up being another. It must be hard for him, being different. Male omegas are much more uncommon than female. Despite this, Sara is greedy. Sara is lonely. Sara cannot console him right now because her own heart aches from being separated. Sara wants him so desperately to open the door. “That doesn’t change anything. Open the door! I can take care of you.” She’s seen movies and television. He’ll make a nest and she’ll bring him snacks, and everything will be okay.

“Sara,” Michele’s voice cracks now the same way it did when she said she was Piero Costa’s girlfriend. It means she’s about to get her way. “I think you’re an alpha.”

“What?” Sara’s hands shake as she reaches for the handle and tries it again. “That’s ridiculous?” Except, trying to deck Rosso. Her newfound confidence…She’s never snarled at Mama before. The fact that Mama locked her out of the room…”Mickey, please. I can take care of you.”

“I’m supposed to be able to take care of you,” he pouts from behind the door.

“Just open the door Mickey. It will be okay.”

Mickey jiggles the handle from the other side, and opens the door.

Sara has him wrapped up in her arms immediately. Everyone always sees Mickey fight for her. What they don’t see is how she comforts him. What they don’t see is how Mama tells her, “you’re not his mother I am,” when she babies him.

She presses her head to his chest, and scratches at his scalp. With her other hand, she rubs his back.  As she holds him, she tries to ignore how damp his body is. He’s soaked through his shirt in several places.  What she does not ignore is how good he smells. It’s addictive, and she dare not pull away for fear of going without. What she does not ignore is how hard he is. She can feel his cock pressed against her hip as they embrace.

“She didn’t hurt you did she?” Michele pulls back for a moment, and pushes the hair away from her face. He doesn’t even look like himself. His eyes are blown wide, and even though his concern is genuine, his expression doesn’t match. His lips are parted slightly. His eyes are blown wide.

“Of course not Mickey,” she assures him. “I’m way faster than her,” and she smirks in a way that she herself has never smirked until now. Except, the action feels normal; she’s watched him do it millions of times. “Feel better though right?” She says raking her nails down his back. “Now that I’m here?”

Michele whimpers.

Sara walks them backwards. It’s like they’re in pairs again, but she’s in the lead. Michele’s knees hit the bed. They flop down onto it.

“Yeah,” he says as he drapes his body over hers. He pushes the hair out of her eyes. He buries his nose in the juncture of her neck. “Much better.”  

It takes no time at all for sleep to tug at the corner of Sara’s eyes. She feels so warm with Mickey. She feels so good when she’s with him. Mama was crazy to think that keeping them apart was a good idea.

* * *

 

When Michele was little, he had nightmares. Sara would always wake him up before anyone could hear. Sara wakes up to the sound of Michele sobbing in his sleep, and it tears something loose from deep within her chest. How _dare_ anyone hurt Mickey. Sara teeters on the edge of asleep and awake. Everything feels hot, and as much as she claws at the covers, she cannot find Mickey in the darkness.

Something feels heavy between her legs, and for a split second she can recall what Mickey told her, “ _I think you’re an alpha.”_

Sara’s eyes open. She sucks in air as if she’s been held under water for a very long time. She pushes the blanket away from Mickey, and watches in rapt fascination and horror as he grimaces in his sleep. “Mickey!” She shakes him awake.

Michele’s eyes flutter open. His expression of terror melts into one of sharp relief when he sees her face. “Sara,” he leans into her touch.

“Mickey.” For a moment all they can do is hold one another.

It’s Mickey that breaks the silence again. “I told you, you were an alpha.”

“What?”

Michele rocks his cock against her. The space between her legs feels like the time she stuck her fingers into a light socket when Mickey touches her there. “I told you. I could tell. You smelled different. When you went after Rosso today…” She can feel him smile. It’s not his usual cocky smirk, but the softer one that only she sees. “I um…I felt it.”

“You felt it?”

“Yeah,” Mickey responds sheepishly. “Here,” and he grabs her hand, uncurls her long fingers, and places her hand on his cock. Then, without a word, he touches her between her legs. Sure enough, her body has changed. She can’t see it, but she can certainly feel a thick heavy…. _oh god._

“Mickey!” she gasps. They aren’t supposed to do this.

“Sara,” he responds. “The school nurse didn’t give me any medication. Neither did Mama.”

His hands don’t still for a moment. He traces up and down her cock with his fingers. He tries to grab it and fist it through her clothes.

“We really shouldn’t-ah,” pangs of guilt wash over her as she arches into his touch.

Despite her protests, Mickey doesn’t stop there. He latches onto her, and ruts his cock up against her side. He breathes hot puffs of air into her ear. His lips rest lazily on her neck. “Sara, it hurts.”

That’s all she needs to hear. It doesn’t matter if it’s wrong, or if they shouldn’t. No one hurts Mickey. She rips away his shirt, and claws at his pants. When he’s naked before her on their faded peony patterned sheets, her breath catches in her throat.

What now? The ache of her own cock is omnipresent. But, she neglects it no matter how it strains against her lace panties, and makes her uniform skirt ride high. 

Michelle’s cock is red and leaking. On instinct Sara parts his legs. His hole is more or less the same: wet, twitching, and needy. She sticks her fingers between his legs, and pushes against his entrance.

Mickey gasps under his touch, “Sa-ra.” Slurrs his syllables like the time they got drunk table wine over winter break. He hides his eyes in the crook of his elbow. “I’m greedy Sara. Always asking you to do things for me.”

The only time Michele ever feels guilty is in the moment after he’s decided to ask for more. Sara knows this. Sara tolerates this. In this moment, Sara wants it. She wants someone to tell her to do it. She wants to hide behind the excuse of Michele’s heat.

She slips the tip of her finger inside. Michele groans, and pushes down onto it.

“Feels good?”

“Really good.” He says. She believes him too. His eyes are half lidded and his lips are parted. Even though the room gets darker and darker by the minute, she can tell that his skin is flush and warm. “But,” his sheepish grin transforms into something she’s more familiar with, something wolfish and hungry.

“More huh?” she says as she moves her finger and out.

Immediately it has an effect on him. He fists his hands into the sheets, arches his back and moves into the touch.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“I dunno,” she says pulling her finger out and pressing against his hole. “You seem to just get really worked up over one,” now it’s her turn to smirk at him. It’s the look that she gives him whenever she makes him pass notes for her to other boys. It’s the look she gives him when she asks to go out cruising with him and his friends in Marco Abate’s convertible.

“Please, Sara,” he looks up at her with wide and desperate eyes. “Please. You’re the only one that can help me.”

That statement alone goes straight to her cock. She plunges in with two fingers, and Michele howls in response. Her fingers slide in easily, and quickly become coated in the thick fluid that leaks from Michele constantly. She twists her fingers in and out, and each time a shiver shoots down her spine at the strange squelching noise that Mickey’s body makes.  

Sara pulls down her panties as she fingers Michele. It’s a little unfair. Her body’s changing too, but so far it’s been all about her brother. Typical. She works her panties down around her hips and then pushes back the plaid fabric of her skirt.

Her cock is different from Michele’s: longer and thicker. Around the base, the skin is flared outward already. The sight makes her giggle. She’s going to have so much fun teasing all the larger alpha males at school.

She fists it in her hands, and of course Michele has to comment on that too.

“What are you doing Sara?” He moans.

“Taking care of us both as usual!” She huffs as she runs her fingers down the length of her shaft. She touched herself before, when it was just a hole and a clit. Rosalinda told her about it, and she was curious. She never saw the appeal.

 _This_ feels infinitely better.

If she clamps her eyes shut tight, and focuses on the push of one hand into Mickey, and the pull of another, it’s like there’s nothing left in the world. It’s like she isn’t even doing anything wrong.

“Why do that when we could…”

Sara opens her eyes, and locks eyes with Mickey.

“You know.”

“Mickey.” Her voice hitches when she says it because she’s supposed to say no. She’s _supposed_ to say no, but she’s not sure if she can.

“Tell me you don’t want to.” He sits up, and her fingers slide out. Gone is the needy and passive omega that hijacked her brother. Her confidant, cocksure, _annoying_ brother is back. Now he pushes her onto the bed.

For a moment, Sara silently admits to herself that she’s always imagined this happening. Like this. With Mickey on top.

“You want to,” he says.

Michele pushes her panties the rest of the way down. He pushes her skirt up. In his need the motions are disjointed. He tries for the zipper on her skirt, but abandons the effort when it snags. Mickey straddles her thighs and splays his fingers across her still clothed chest. He holds her cock in his hand, and sinks down on it.

Sara’s jaw goes slack in a silent scream. How could she have ever said no to this? How could she have ever explored her new body any other way? Michele feels like being buried underneath the duvet when the heater kicks on, on a cool winter morning. Michele feels hot like heating pad their sports medicine specialist uses. He feels tight like a wound ace bandage.

“Told ya you wanted to.” Michele uses his muscular build to his advantage. He squats on her cock and works himself up and down over and over again. The sound of Mickey’s ragged breath and uneven moans are deafening.

Mickey feels nice, and he sells nice. It’s almost perfect…Except one little thing. It pisses her off so much whenever Mickey makes up her mind for her. She hates it when he confuses her kindness for passive behavior. She was going to do it anyway! He wasn’t supposed to push her down and _take_. He was supposed to lay her down nice and sweet. He of all people should understand.  

Sara grits her teeth, and grabs him by the hips. In an instant she’s sitting up, and in another she’s pushing him over so that he’s on his back and she’s on top. _She’s_ the alpha and she can. She pounds into him, and doesn’t relent for a moment, even when she can feel her cock swell deep within him.

“Hey, slow down.”

“Mickey,” it’s not even about getting under his skin anymore. It’s about doing what feels good, and Mickey feels so good. With each thrust she gets bigger. With each thrust, he gets tighter. Yet, the drive to keep pounding inside remains constant.

She answers by pushing him further back. Her hands rest on his thighs as she can feel _something_ tighten within her body. “Thought you wanted me to help you.”

Michele’s eyes look glassy, as if he’s about to cry. It’s a sharp contrast to his stomach which is covered in sticky white fluid. “You’re really big Sara.”

“Shh, Mickey,” and just like that her anger fades away again. He’s always doing that, getting her riled up and smoothing it all away as if it’s nothing. “It’s fine.” She takes his cock into her hand. She pumps him in quick uneven movements that match the brutal pace of her hips. “I promise.”

Sara lied and told Rosalind after she touched herself for the first time that she came. _Now_ she knows different. It feels like falling on the ice hard and sudden, yet it feels like the best thing in the world all at the same time.

She can feel her cock twitch deep inside Mickey. At the same time, Mickey spills all over her hand and his stomach.

She’d always imagined afterglow the way it was in the movies. He’d hold her close and tell her she was beautiful. They’d take a shower, and do it again. The next time, he’d be gentle and sweet.

None of that happens.

Sara tries to pull out, but she’s stuck. Her knot is too inflated. Whenever she tries to move, Michele just cants his hips upward into her desperate for more contact. His brain is addled once more by another surge of heat. With Sara between his legs like this, the position is awkward, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

Michele just pushes her down, so that she’s half kneeling half laying haphazardly on the broad expanse of his chest. Michele threads his fingers in her hair, and rocks up against her. He continues to make the best little noises. It’s nothing like she imagined her first time being, but it’s alright.

Keys jingle at the door. The sound doesn’t register right away. There’s the _slide thunk_ of the deadbolt being undone followed by the sound of the door to the apartment opening.

Sara sits up, to find that they’re _still_ stuck together. Her eyes meet Michele’s and although neither of them speak, they both know what the other is thinking, “ _Mama.”_

* * *

 


End file.
